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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801874">girl crush</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsempertyrannis/pseuds/sicsempertyrannis'>sicsempertyrannis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, M/M, Minor Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, this was fun to write</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:53:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsempertyrannis/pseuds/sicsempertyrannis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas' thoughts while Miranda shares the stories of her affair with James</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow &amp; Thomas Hamilton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>girl crush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired by Harry Styles' cover of "Girl Crush"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Make no mistake, Thomas Hamilton loved his wife. Not in the traditional manner—or any manner English society would condone—but tradition has never guaranteed rightness. Miranda was his companion in all aspects of life, someone he could trust with an open-heart. Some of the best parts of Thomas’ day were at the end of it, when the servants had retired and Thomas and Miranda were free to talk in complete privacy in the parlor. This ritual had become routine early in their marriage but tonight, Thomas was more than a little distracted.</p><p> </p><p>Thomas was known to be consumed by his work, but he knew that his work wasn’t the reason why he couldn’t seem to focus on his wife’s words. Lieutenant James McGraw had been assigned as his liaison only a few months ago, but Thomas couldn’t seem to shake him out of his head—and it wasn’t helping that he was the subject of tonight’s conversation. Those sharp eyes, his crooked smile. A glimpse of—</p><p> </p><p>“Thomas, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Miranda cut in.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Thomas replied, fixating his eyes back on her. They were reclining on one of the chaises in their drawing room, his head rested on her lap as she described her most recent affair with the lieutenant.</p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t,” she said, looking down at him with a sly grin on her face. “However, I do feel that we’re having similar trains of thought.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Thomas flushed red and sat up, shifting his body so he was looking at her. “I don’t mean to interrupt. Please, continue your story.”</p><p> </p><p>Miranda looked at him with a raised brow, a smile still tugging at her lips. “Okay dear. I know we know that Navy men are strong—they have to be—but James, James would surprise you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Surprise <em>me</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>His wife gave him a look before continuing her story. “Yes, <em>you</em>. And the freckles on that man! They’re absolutely everywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>With Miranda’s head tossed back to the ceiling, Thomas took advantage of the interlude to close his eyes, swallowing thickly. Thomas wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with James’ freckles, although he hadn’t had Miranda’s chance to map them out. London had been in the middle of a heat wave not long ago, causing the lieutenant to abandon his usual formalities and roll his sleeves to his forearms. Thomas had caught a glimpse of a smattering of freckles, and when all rational thought fled only one word had been able to stay in his mind: <em>please.</em></p><p> </p><p>“I knew it,” Miranda said, poking Thomas’ face.</p><p> </p><p>“Knew what?” he asked, grabbing her hand and placing it in-between them.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t play coy with me I am your wife. As your wife, I’m going to tell you that I don’t think James is that into me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember our first kiss?”</p><p> </p><p>“How could I not?” Thomas asked with a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Early in their relationship, they had been forced to attend a dance together, a boring affair that neither wanted to stay at long. At some point in the night, after spending hours in mindless conversation and downing drinks just to stay sane, the pair had decided to sneak away and stumbled upon a private art gallery. Making a game of it, they tried to create a story behind each painting, with Thomas participating with his usual vigor. Mid-sonnet, Miranda had leaned forward and kissed Thomas, who then fell backwards in his surprise and tipped into the frame, sending it crashing to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>In the midst of their hasty getaway, Miranda had shot him a knowing look, giving Thomas the nerve he needed to confess his truth. Their marriage, although loving, had always been one of convenience on both sides.</p><p> </p><p>“Kissing James is like kissing you. He’s merely a better actor,” Miranda said.</p><p> </p><p>“He’d have to be.”</p><p> </p><p>The weight of Thomas’ words fell over them for a moment, a reminder of how the lieutenant has had to fight for every scrap of respect he’s ever received. Glancing around the room, Thomas’ eyes caught on their plush rug and delicate china. He knew that if he merely opened his mouth, the servants would come running. Meanwhile, worthy men like James shivered in their tiny homes. Thomas ached with a need for James to be here, to share in the warmth. Looking back at Miranda, he knew her mind was following the same path.</p><p> </p><p>“You know I’ve seen the way he is with you,” Miranda said, leaning forward and resting her hand on Thomas’ knee. “The way he looks at you, its utterly incomparable to how he is with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re only trying to make me feel better,” Thomas joked, gently brushing Miranda’s hand off of him.</p><p> </p><p>Unable to focus on his wife, he turned his gaze to an empty chair across the room, the emptiness catching his heart in his throat. Only hours ago, James had occupied that chair, his fidgeting hands tucked beside him on the seat. Catching sight of that restlessness was like staring at the sun; Thomas knew it would hurt, but he couldn’t help but do it. When the afterimage haunted him, Thomas found himself resting his eyes more and more, trying to chase that feeling.</p><p> </p><p>For all the ways being with the lieutenant hurt, being without him was worse, a void filling up every part of Thomas’ being. He would pace in the night, surprised that he had enough mass to remain on the ground instead of dissipating into nothingness. Once he’d knocked into the bookshelf and flinched when a book dropped on his foot, eyes closed and body tensed as he waited for the force to shatter him.</p><p> </p><p>Men like Thomas weren’t exactly common, but they existed and could be found if one only knew where to look. Considering the rumors that followed the Royal Navy like a stray dog, the idea that James could be the same wasn’t entirely without weight. Still, Thomas wasn’t sure if he could survive this hope that threatened to blossom within him if it proved to be in vain.</p><p> </p><p>Being with James was like seeing all the directions Thomas’ future could branch off. An insightful quip spurned images of them hunched over a text together, interspersing analysis with quick and gentle kisses. A huff of laughter led to almost-memories of them drunk in his study, liquor not the only thing making them warm. A brush of fingers when passing papers inspired more than Thomas would care to say out loud, transfixed on what it would be like to have those hands on his skin.</p><p> </p><p>The pain of possibility was what it came down to, the anxious held breath before an answer. For all that those little moments fueled him, Thomas was first and foremost a man of words. When he loved someone, he wanted to be able to embed his love in every sentence he spoke and line he wrote. This dance that he and James were caught in… Thomas didn’t know the steps.</p><p> </p><p>It was time bring it into the light.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please leave comments and kudos!</p><p>my tumblr is blacksailswlw so message me on there if you ever want to talk!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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